ooh. stylish.

well, how 'bout that - one of my favorite reads out there, the venerable siouxsie at siouxsie law, has passed on a stylish blogger award to me! thanks! i am honored. so in keeping with the rules, here are seven random facts about me.

1) if it were possible, and they still sold them, i would live in my old black suede airwalks from high school. GOD, i miss those shoes.

2) i'm sure i lived just fine before my iphone. i just can't do it anymore.

3) as much as i love humanity in the general sense, i get more misanthropic as it relates to people i run into in a given day every single year.

4) i hate powerpoint with a passion unparalleled.

5) really, i prefer a man with traditionally southern mannerisms.

6) i CANNOT be in a room when a TV is on and someone's watching video on a computer. the competing sounds are too much for me to take.

7) as much as i bitch when other people do it, and lord knows i do, i suck at picking a restaurant.

and now, i've been asked to share the love with 15 of my favorite bloggers. here we go:

a) adorable napalm
b) 'bama on the brain
c) anna's life
d) have we met?
e) perfectly cursed life
f) always a drunk, never a bride
g) the suniverse
h) best of fates
i) a diary of a mad woman
j) heartsick and headstrong
k) blond with a bullet...
l) mascara and microchips
m) dibbly fresh
n) are you there, youth? it's me, nikki
o) the best days of your life

enjoy!

sins of the fathers

parents. everyone has two, somewhere out there - that's biological reality. we all have a mother and a father, at least at the point of conception. but in a lot of cases, way more than should ever be the case, one or both of the people who give a person life just... check out. i am not a parent. it's only been recently that the idea of being someone's mama hasn't caused me to break out in hives. but i am someone's child. i love both of my parents, my dad who's here and my mom who's passed on. and even though i came out okay, even though i have next to nothing to complain about regarding my raising, i still have scars. and i'm one of the lucky ones.

my friends and i are at the age when most people historically start their own nuclear families. i've had a couple of friends give birth. it's a hell of a thing - all of a sudden, there's this kid you're responsible for. and watching all this go down has made me reflective, i guess. when you do this, when you create life with a partner (one you love or not), you've opened the floodgates. you're now on the hook for things that happen to that kid. and like it or not, more often than not, what's done can't be undone. we forgive, but we don't forget.

so back to the checked out parent. sometimes it's a tragedy, an unintentional trick of brain chemistry, that pulls a parent away. that's what happened to me. other times, it's willful hatred, cruelty or reckless disregard for the consequences of actions that sear into a kid's mind. those are the times that try my soul more than anything i can articulate. i've seen the breakdowns that occur, the way the victims of situations like this have had their hearts broken time and time again, and even so, still hold their attackers in a place of rueful, painful love, twisted around the mangled frame of their conception of what that parent should be and what that parent actually is. it's shattering. there's no other word for it.


kids are so fragile, such blank slates. that's what scares me about them, what gives me so much pause about the idea of having one myself. if you're a thoughtful, caring person on any level, you can't help but evaluate yourself against that standard when contemplating reproduction. everything you say and do to and around that baby is going to go towards what that baby becomes in adulthood. there's so much focus on prenatal medical care. hell, some people go so far as to say that women of childbearing age should take prenatal vitamins all the time, just in case. while that strikes me as a little too "women are nothing but walking incubators," there's certainly no doubt in anyone's mind that if you're thinking of conceiving, you should get yourself into good medical shape.

but no one ever seems to pay much mind to prenatal mental care. shouldn't that matter too? if we're so concerned about whether the fetus is getting enough vitamin B-12, it seems that we should be just as concerned, if not more, about whether the parent(s) of that soon-to-be-baby can handle what's about to happen. nine months of gestation is one thing - the rest of your life as someone's parent has WAY more impact on what that baby will become.

so i guess my point is this: parents, be careful. for that matter, everyone around those babies needs to be careful. when they put that little bundle in your arms, that's the first impression you'll make. it's incumbent upon you and everyone else to make damn good and sure that every impression after that does as little harm as possible. that's the wage of being a parent. for the sake of that bundle, and the rest of the world, you had damn well better pay it.

grace under fire

today, i rolled my ankle. i stepped out of the car, caught my heel on a thoroughly-invisible lumpy place in the pavement and went down on one knee like i'd been shot. swollen ankle, sore knee, sore hip, and weirdly, sore neck. (i strained my neck monday night - don't ask how - and reaggravated it when i fell.) i got up, reassembled myself and walked into the drugstore. good thing i was already there; i bought an ankle brace, to add to the four i already owned, then put it on as soon as i got back.

good lord, i'm in pain. but what's worse is that no one i know reacted to this with the typical level of shock that usually accompanies an adult falling down. no one said, oh my god! are you okay? good grief, how did this happen? no, what i got was, there you go again, haha. you're okay? good. damn, you're clumsy. another day, another fall, eh? sigh.

there was a time when this was funny. i know there was. but more and more, it's just getting old. i hurt myself so many times in a given day. i cut my finger the other day while sitting still in a car, holding a plastic box of salad. i do stupid damn things all the damn time, and the result is pain every damn day. i've never been particularly physically capable. i used to walk into door jambs and fall down constantly as a small child. daddy always called me "spatially gifted," which was his kind way of saying, good christ, my kid's a klutz. this is nothing new.

but what is new is this feeling of dread when i move around in the world. i should be able to walk places, do things, live my damn life without stupid little injuries. the joke on me shouldn't be, we have to wrap her in bubble wrap to get anywhere. but it is. i feel like a constant, never-ending punch line. there are other things that feed into this feeling, predominantly the new information that, apparently, i'm the most serious, joyless person on the planet (another rant for another time), but it's largely the clumsy, stumbling way i move through the world that makes people laugh at me.

i feel like a joke all the time with this. but i don't know what to do; i am already so careful that the other punch line about me is that i am the queen of the obsessive-compulsives. i don't know how to fix it. so this is my cross to bear, i guess: i lack grace, and everyone in my life gets to have a nice chuckle at my expense. over and over. forever and ever, world without end, amen.

big-girl job

it's time for this little blogger to get serious about getting hired after graduation. i am alternately brimming with bravado-tinged confidence and trembling with crushing insecurity, sometimes second by second, throughout this process. i've seen my resume; i look impressive as HELL on paper. i've got good grades, relevant coursework, and two solid pages of educational and professional experience. (i don't care what they say about a one-page resume; i've been in college or working since 1998, and there's just no way in hell that's all going on one sheet of paper.) i am a rock star.

but how do i go about convincing the people with the jobs that i am? once i get in front of them, it'll all be OK for sure. but it's damn difficult getting in front of them. when i was a little kid, before i went to law school and got grown, i got literally every job i had except one (which was AWFUL) through some kind of connection. someone i knew worked there, that sort of thing. but in this economy, those leads are damn hard to come by.

so out i go, into the breach. head high, resume out, smile and sell it. i know things will be okay, that i'll get something, that it'll work itself out. i have a fair amount of time to make it happen. but until i have that offer in hand, set and ready to go, it's going to be a long, terrifying winter. few things scare me more than being broke, and that fear can shut me down completely if i don't watch myself. so i'm throwing on my helmet, papering the known universe with my sexy-as-hell resume (and resisting the urge to describe it as such in professional situations), and invoking every ounce of good vibes the universe has to offer.

now, to paraphrase rex ryan, let's go get a goddamned job.

tougher than the rest

[no lyric interpretation, but here's your soundtrack anyway. sorry for the ad. god, i love this song.]

i'll tell you a secret: sometimes, i want nothing more than to be traditionally, proverbially swept off my feet, whisked away, in that really hackneyed fairy-tale way. just like peter cetera in that song from the karate kid, part II, i want him to come in like a knight in shining armor from a long time ago, just in time to save the day and take me to his castle far away.

how freaking retrograde is that? i'm supposed to be a rough-and-tumble feminist. i can take care of myself better than most people can, that's for sure. but i just get so damn tired sometimes. i spent so long being the caretaker, the capable one, in my old life. it's probably more my fault than my ex's, really; co-dependency is just as bad as dependency, in some ways. but no matter whose fault it is, that's how it was, and that's why my ex is my ex. it's beyond apparent that i can shoulder the burden all day long. but i just don't want to sometimes. i just want to be kept.

the man has always been on my side. now that we're together, he's strengthened that position in my life, becoming my biggest cheerleader. he tells me constantly how smart i am. he trusts my resolve implicitly, dismissing my doubts with a simple, hmph, whatever, you'll kick its ass. he always tells me things like, you know i'd do anything for you, and you mean the world to me. he and i fit together in ways i can't even describe.

and he does me the biggest favor anyone can do: he refuses to swoop in and "rescue" me. as i continue the amazingly whiplash-inducing experience that is post-divorce graduate school, i find myself staring down a series of challenges. the weight of my life is heavy, and i found myself desperately seeking some form of escape, some easy way out of my troubles. but he would not give it. he gives no quarter to my insecurities. and in his way, he ends up saving me from one of my biggest threats - my own self-doubt. he builds me up, he reminds me how strong i am. when i look at him as he calmly rejects my own misgivings, all i see is the belief he has in me. 

and with an ally like him, how could i doubt myself? his faith makes me tougher than the rest.

a series of questions

the inimitable red shoes has tagged me to answer some questions, and who am i to turn down such a request? so here goes...


1) if you have pets, do you see them as merely animals, or are they members of your family?
the ex has the dog we lived with in louisiana. i always liked that dog fine, i suppose, but it was clear that he was the ex's dog, no question. the ex was all about the bond, and a lot of times i'm sure he liked the dog hundreds of times more than he liked me. i saw him as an animal, a nice little companion who annoyed the hell out of me, ate my things to spite me, and often kicked me in the kidneys when we all slept in our bed. sigh.


2) if you can have a dream to come true, what would it be?
i've had a few come true recently. i'm not gonna be greedy here. my dreams these days are to get a good job after graduation and keep this relationship i'm in growing. 


3) what is the one thing most hated by you?
easy. willful ignorance. i hate it beyond all reason when you show someone a series of facts, they look at them, and then, as if to spite the truth, conclude the exact opposite of what those facts show. there's NOTHING more enervating than that.


4) what would you do with a billion dollars?
oh, easy. i'd pay off everything i owe - education, personal debts, the car i still own with the ex, etc. i'd buy a nice house in the area, near where i am now, straight cash, as well as a car of my own. i'd make my parents comfortable. i'd do some serious charity work. with what was left, i'd start a serious conversation about financial and emotional readiness for the future.


5) what helps to pull you out of a bad mood?
time with my friends. a good glass of red wine. dark chocolate, preferably in the form of a mounds bar. warm weather. a nice coffee. a good lay. any of these things work. 


6) which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?
sorry. if you have one of these, either way, without the other, that is not even CLOSE to a blessing. it's called unrequited love, and it eats the lover up inside. i've been on both sides, and no. just no. love only works if both parties love.


7) what is your bedtime routine?
depends. if i'm alone? glass of wine, piece of chocolate, and either blogging or sportscenter until i fall asleep. if i'm not? we crawl into bed, talk, sometimes watch TV. some nights... well, you can imagine. but always, every night we're together, we fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms. it's nice.


8) if you are currently in a relationship, how did you meet your partner?
come back with me to the mid-1990s, that glorious time when britney spears was nothing more than a has-been mouseketeer. hell, i didn't even have a computer yet. we were in tenth grade, in our state's capitol at a mock legislature convention. a girl from my school had been hanging out with this boy, and she brought him to eat dinner with us that night. as we sat on the lawn of the state house, chatting about all the important things fourteen-year-olds discuss, he casually mentioned that he liked my favorite R.E.M. album, new adventures in hi-fi. do you remember how hard it was back then to be a music snob? i said to him, "i can tell that we're going to be friends." and from that point on, we were inseparable. you know the rest of the story...


9) if you could watch a creative person in the act of the creative process, who would it be?
i would kill to be able to watch warren zevon write a song. either him or tom waits.


10) what kinds of books do you read?
in school season, i read the law. mainly the internal revenue code. but for the last few weeks, i've devoured everything non-law-related i can get my grubby little hands on. i love memoirs, essay collections and good novels. i like books about sports. i like poetry, but only certain poets. i just read just kids, the patti smith memoir. BEAUTIFUL.


(hey, are y'all on goodreads? let's be friends.)


11) how would you see yourself in ten years' time?
working as a lawyer, comfortable with the man, and as someone's mama. (believe me, there's a truckload of angst coming in the next couple weeks on the whole "someone's mama" subject. stay tuned. it'll get fun. heh.)


12) what's your fear?
god, just one? it changes daily, it seems. how can you force me to choose? these days, i'm legitimately scared of the job market. the irrational fears, though, are always the same - i'll botch this relationship, i'm not as smart as i think i am, etc., etc., etc. (see also this entire blog.)


13) would you give up all junk food for the rest of your life for the opportunity to visit outer space?
no. sorry - exploring's cool, but i love chocolate.


14) would you rather be single and rich or married but poor?
i've done married and poor. i could do that again with the right man.


15) what's the first thing you do when you wake up?
generally? curse. i hate mornings. if i'm with him, though, i usually kiss him on the shoulder.


16) if you could change one thing about your spouse/partner, what would it be?
OH no. no, no, no, no, no. this is my least favorite thing ever - you CANNOT change them. he doesn't come in customizable form; if you take him, you take him as he is. the man and i both do things that annoy the ever-loving hell out of one another. it's been this way forever. now that we're a couple, we butt heads over them and hash them out, but it's not about "change." it's about "this is what i mean when i say X," followed generally by, "oh, well that makes sense." i am not changing anything about him - who he is now is why i love him so much.


17) if you could pick a new name for yourself, what would it be?
kinda did, didn't i? y'all know me as magnolia (except for those of you who know me as both magnolia and my real name). i love that nickname. i'm happy this way.


18) have you ever been betrayed by a family member? what did you do to get through it and go on with life? what made it better? would you forgive and forget no matter how horrible a thing that special someone has done?
uh, i'm divorced. i'd say that covers it. as far as "forgive and forget" is concerned, though? you always forgive. you NEVER, EVER forget. you carry the wrongs against you through this life as exemplars, so that you never let them happen again. call me vengeful or spiteful for doing it; i don't care. you have to gird yourself for your future, and your armor is made up of the wrongs in your past.


19) if you could only eat one thing for the next 6 months, what would it be?
salad. i love salad.


whew. now to share the love: i have to tag 4 people to play. here they are -
a) anna
b) PCL
c) jessica
d) the mad woman


hope y'all have fun!

camellia

[for those of you not versed in the flora of my southern homeland, this is a camellia, and this is a camellia bud. that'll help with the metaphor.]

i tend to be a little circumspect in my real life. that may be surprising to my loyal readers, given how i spill my guts all the hell over the internet, but it's true. anonymity is a really empowering thing, and without it, i just don't feel right being as open, as honest, as i am here. that's been the cause of a lot of problems for me - i hate conflict, i just don't want to go there, so i let things fester until it all comes shooting out in some kind of terror-inducing fit (aimed internally or externally, depending on how i feel).

when we were little hellspawn children running around the gulf south, we wreaked havoc on so many poor, unsuspecting camellia bushes. we'd use the pods as ammunition. they're pretty dense, so they made excellent projectiles to wing at one another at top speed. they left little round bruises that took forever to fade. but my favorite thing to do, sitting on my back stoop, was to peel off those green guarding leaves (which would inevitably slice my hands) and sprinkle the pink and white petals-to-be all over the yard. camellias fascinated me.

but the best part about a camellia is what happens when they bloom. from that tiny little bud, all tightly packed together and wrapped in those tough little green leaves, comes this gorgeous, splashy flower. it unfurls itself like a flag, a grand, bossy banner that seems to say, "you've been missing beauty like this in your life; good thing i came along." it's a bold flower, not for the faint of heart.

a lot of times, i hide myself in a pretty thick barrier. i wrap myself in the protection of shyness, manifesting itself in quiet complacency, a go-along-to-get-along sort of carapace to minimize hassle and make sure i'm surrounded with happy people. but when i bust out of that shell, with a lot of careful tending and loving care, i shine, i flourish, i strut my stuff in every color of the rainbow. it takes work to get me there, but i make it 100% worth your while. take it in; it's beautiful to see.

talk to me

your humble author, as you have clearly seen, can be a giant ball of anxiety at times. i am given to worry on a fairly regular basis. sometimes, most times even, i am able to seek solace with the fond embrace of my love. but what to do when the source of the anxiety is something that involves him?

i tried to have a conversation with him tonight, wishing to clear up something that had been weighing on my mind of late. but his style is... to call him stoic insults stoics. taciturn. the strong, SILENT type. so my worries and queries were met with crickets. now, don't get me wrong; he wasn't unresponsive. but a simple soothing just was - and is - not gonna get it done tonight. i wanted answers, discourse. his opinion mattered, and he would. not. give. it. just frustrating as hell.

so that's why i'm writing this instead of lying in his arms right now. i love him dearly. but right now, a pat on the head just ain't gonna get it done. someday, that might make sense to him. but until it does, he's going to have to see that silence is not always golden in my world.

in the car

you can't go on thinking nothing's wrong
who's gonna drive you home tonight?
 - "drive," the cars

some days, the weight of the world gets to be too much. lord knows there was a ton of that this weekend. my beloved saints? yeah, we're not going to talk about that. it's cold. i think my body hates me, based on how many varied aches, pains and ailments it's throwing at me. and that's not even getting into the unimaginable sorrow and rage of the attempted assassination of a congresswoman.

so what did i do? i got in the car and went for a drive. ostensibly, it was to run errands; the man needed a key made, but had a call today, so i volunteered to do it. (i am not doing ANYTHING until a week for tomorrow. i. am. BORED.) but once that was done, i wasn't ready to go back and sit in a chair while everyone else lived their lives. so i wound my way around the metro DC area, fighting traffic, blasting music and getting my thoughts in order. it was so restorative that even the light swearing i had to do while negotiating probably my least favorite intersection in the area didn't stress me out.

maybe other people aren't like this, but i am. there is nothing that settles my soul more than being alone in the car with my thoughts for a little while. it may not cure my ills, but controlling a slick rolling ton of american-made steel sure does salve me for awhile. it's the little things, eh?

alma mater

this is your soundtrack. this is my alma mater. i miss this place more than i could ever imagine.

"where stately oaks and broad magnolias shade inspiring halls,
there stands our dear old alma mater who to us recalls
fond memories that waken in our hearts a tender glow
and make us happy for the love that we have learned to know

all hail to thee our alma mater, molder of mankind
may greater glory, love unending, be forever thine
our worth in life will be thy worth, we pray to keep it true
and may thy spirit live in us...

forever LSU."


GEAUX TIGERS.

in which i am angry

boy, it must be real easy for y'all, eh, new house majority?

i mean, hell. for your very first act to be to come in and try to get rid of healthcare reform. nice to know there are no other problems in this world. but really, what more should i have expected? see, these folks come from a magical fairyland where it's perpetually 1950 and life is june cleaver waiting for ward to come home from the office. nothing is ever challenging or broken, and if you're struggling, well, then, you'd better just work harder, because it's clearly your fault.

screw y'all. seriously. last night, i made a conscious decision to not seek emergency treatment for weird symptoms i was having because i cannot afford the outrageous $100 co-pay for my student insurance. oh yeah - and that was the co-pay for the hospital RUN BY THE UNIVERSITY I ATTEND. so screw y'all. screw everyone who thinks you're proportionally entitled to healthcare based on your net worth. i have a damn broken tooth that i can't get fixed because i can't afford $3,000 for a root canal (which is based on the cost of one in 2004 when this happened to me last). screw everyone who thinks healthcare is something that should be bought and sold. this isn't dry-cleaning. it's people's goddamned well-being. we're americans. we're supposed to have the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, if the tea-baggers are to be believed. well, the right to life is meaningless if you die of a curable disease because you can't afford to treat yourself.

i'm low on words and high on venom. so i'll just say this: we are rotten in our core as a nation if we let this sorry form of reform get repealed by venal, mean-spirited skinflints who'd rather have the 100 richest americans avoid paying their fair share of taxes than see every american be able to afford the goddamn hospital when it's needed.

screw it. i'm going to bed.

learning curve

as i've said many times before, the learning curve in my relationship rears its ugly head in strange and unexpected ways. i mean, when you're dating someone you've known half your life, you don't necessarily expect to look up at some points and think, where the hell did THAT aspect of your personality come from? why didn't i know about this? and yet, this happens a lot more than i feel like it should. i guess there's just a fundamental difference between being someone's best friend and being his girlfriend.

sometimes, though, it's not me who's caught unaware by the learning curve. every so often, he's the one left confused and unable to finesse the situation. this generally happens when i present him with the more complex, challenging pieces of my personality, the ones i try to hide from the world. he's a fairly straightforward man, one who prizes analytical thinking and problem-solving. if there's a challenge, it should be examined, an answer should be isolated if possible, and that course of action should be taken. A + B = C. it's algebra. but philosophy? not his bag. he has no patience for pie-in-the-sky discourse, even if done solely for recreation. those all-night-long conversations we liberal arts majors love so dearly, tossing around ideas and theorizing? yeah, you can forget that with the man. to call what he has for that sort of thing "contempt" is an insult to contempt.

so when given a real-life situation that can't be analyzed, and it's not possible to just say "fuck it, there's no answer," he is often left at a loss, shut down. enter my whipsawing emotions. i defy linear logic when i'm down like this, so there is no "let's do X to make you feel better and that'll be that." there's also, clearly, no giving up on this one. so he does things that he thinks will help, and he frets. as i lay there in the dark, clearly in a state of mind beyond his comprehension, he rubs my back, soothing the only way he knows how.

but as he does, i feel through his touch a stark, unrelenting fear. i look up at him sharply, intensely startled by the sensation. he smiles back at me, but the smile doesn't touch his eyes. and it's then, looking at the tension on his face, feeling the worry in his hands as they touch my skin, that it hits me like a ton of bricks. it's not a lack of understanding that shuts him down; it's the disappointment, the fear, that he can't snap his fingers and make it go away.

you think you know all you can about someone, and even now, you come away with a staggering new understanding. love is an evolving process, to be sure, and with every new fact gleaned, every new insight, the relationship is changed. the permanent mark of that fear-filled touch of his hand is seared onto my skin, locking in the lesson behind it: he will do anything to help me, and if he feels that he can't, it eats at him. the love behind that fear brings me to my knees with its strength, its intensity.

it's enough to lift my lowest spirits. see, love? you did help. more than you know.

urge for going

the rest of the world returned to work today after the glorious overconsumptive fog that the holidays have been. but me? i'm still a student. i may be damn near 30, but as far as my schedule is concerned, i am a slothful 18-year-old kid. i have two more weeks before my classes start again. i'm sure there was a time when all this freedom was a total boon, and that i was thrilled beyond belief to sit/lie around and do nothing. it was probably, like, the totally greatest thing EVER, no doubt.

but now? good god, i am bored. i feel worthless when i have nothing to do. i don't know if it was law school that did this to me, or if it's simply a function of age, but i just cannot manage downtime anymore. i can't conceive of how to handle long stretches of time in which nothing is scheduled. it's just torturous. they say idle hands are the devil's playground. to me, however, an idle mind is what causes me all the trouble. when i don't have things to do, my mind... wanders. and rarely, if ever, does that wandering result in anything good.

the last time this happened, when i left myself unprogrammed, it was around this time two years ago. i really thought i needed the rest. but then, quite unexpectedly, my life got turned 100% upside down by the events of new year's weekend 2009. lines were crossed, decisions were made, and the beginning of the end of my old life was kicked off in explosive fashion. but then i had to go back to my old life and spend seven days pretending like nothing had changed, with no distractions whatsoever. and friends, it was nothing short of mind-bending. i was scared, depressed, lonely and sad. and the longer i sat still, with no way to escape the whirlwind of thoughts whipsawing through my brain, the closer i came to total desperation. finally, i made up my mind that there was only one possible solution: i hopped a plane, lying to everyone i knew, and made a stand.

that time, the stand i made did not end the way i'd hoped. i didn't get what i set out to get, which led to a whole string of reckless and potentially questionable decisions. in the end, those decisions set me on the road i'm on today, with all the good that's brought me. but the point is, when i am left alone with my mind, i tend to get... impulsive. dangerously, treacherously, foolishly impulsive. and at my station in life, that is no joking matter. my schedule might give me the freedom of a kid, but my reality locks me into the responsibility of an adult. every decision i make has consequences, and the kind of flightiness in which i feel like indulging will only lead to serious problems if i give in.

so the next two weeks will be a series of tests. every single day will be a trial: a test of my fealty to my relationship, my career, and my sanity. i have every reason to believe that i'll make it through, as long as my supports hold steady and don't fail me. but the dark river of recklessness flows very close to my surface. it slowly sings to me of the urge for going, for moving, for taking risks far more treacherous than i can stand. will i be able to resist the siren song? only time will tell.

mouthy

so as part of the auspicious start to 2011 i experienced, i spent the early morning hours of yesterday on "make sure the man doesn't die" duty. this is a new one on me; usually, i'm the one praying for death after a night of overindulgence. but as he worked through it, i dealt with the... aftermath, we'll say. it was right dark in that bathroom, too, and i had my contacts out already. i guess that's why i didn't notice that towel bar there, screwed into the door where it always has been. magnolia's head, meet exposed steel.

no damage, no blood; everything was okay, or so i thought. just a little sore. i sat up with the man anyway, so the whole concussion thing wasn't a concern. but all day yesterday, i felt a little off. my head hurt, which was in no way related to dehydration and lack of sleep (ha ha), and every so often, i'd get these weird little flashes of paranoia. i don't know what the deal was, but i was all off-kilter all day.

once the man regained consciousness, he and i spent, as i mentioned, the whole day in bed. rest does a body good, they say, but my mind was just not where it should've been. i found myself talking, not even really in a coherent way, about anything that shot through my tired, addled brain. it was a monologue of wide-ranging and epic proportions, on everything from the ridiculousness of gary oldman's accent in air force one to the state of the world.

and that's when my mild craziness turned into wildly out-there mouthiness. i decided that this was the perfect time to throw caution to the wind and ask the man a ton of questions that undoubtedly made him uncomfortable. so i did. i opened myself up wide and spoke honestly, without filters or kid gloves. i've trained to be cognizant of all angles, to make the strongest argument possible while acknowledging my cohort's position. but last night, i didn't care. it was no-holds-barred, 100% bleeding-edge "this is what i want."

funny thing, too - i think i got what i wanted out of it. i fell asleep, at LONG last, reassured and happy, comforted by the touch of a hand to my shoulder, a kiss to the sore place on the top of my head, and a whispered, of course. so here's to accidental head injuries, for giving me the courage to spill my guts. and here's to being mouthy, too. every so often, there's no better way to be.

pretty mess

hi, everyone - welcome to 2011. i'm avoiding exclamations in an attempt to keep my "voice" down; if the rest of y'all are as bleached-feeling as we are tonight, you'll appreciate it.

oh, what a party. i find that there's no better way to send out a year like 2010 than to flash back to how i behaved as an 18-year-old undergraduate. read: wine. champagne. more wine. more champagne. dancing in a giant pack with a bunch of random girls i'd never met before. dancing with my "i do NOT dance" boyfriend, drunkenly belting out lyrics to songs i didn't even know he knew. taking scandalous pictures in which i at least look good.

and then, as all these things eventually do, things took a turn. indulgence becomes excess, and excess brings consequence. as a result, it's a saturday night in a major city, with fun events everywhere, and i am mainlining red gatorade like it's the water of life. we're in bed. i have his scrub pants on, for god's sake. we tried an outing to go see a basketball game; after a quick dinner out, it was apparent that this adventure could not continue. it was damned from the start.

but you know what? it was FABULOUS. all of it - my lack of sleep, making sure the man was still breathing; the joy that is blue-cheese dip that's been left out all night; realizing that the trash was full before the party started, etc., etc., etc. - was so worth it. we had fun. we enjoyed each other's company. we threw our hands up in the air sometimes, sang hey-o, let go, celebrated and lived our lives. and really, that's what it's all about.

now if you'll excuse me, i'm a little woozy, and the man needs more ginger ale. time to go back to bed. and would you hit that light? it's giving me a headache again. thanks.

toast

it's new year's eve, which means that it's time for the obligatory wrap-up of the beautiful dark twisted cocktail that was 2010. we took the good, we took the bad. i dare say we took them both. no facts of life here, though; just another year over.

but damn, what a year. ups, downs, strikes, gutters - i have never had a year in my life that had more upheaval. i ended a marriage; i began a career. i started a relationship; i ended a degree program. i left home; i came home. it's enough to make you dizzy.

and i can say without reservation that, despite the heart-rending pain and dizzying glee, in the cold objective light of morning, i've never grown more than i did in 2010. and i largely did that growth publicly, through this little ol' internet outpost. it's been a hell of a journey here on the blog, and it's been amazing meeting all of y'all out here in the world.

so in the words of kanye west, i think it's time for us to have a toast. let's raise our glasses to:

 - ourselves, for getting through it all, somehow;
 - those we love, both who are here and who are gone;
 - the future, for being better than the past;
 - lessons learned and things achieved.

cheers to all of y'all. have a safe and amazing night; let's meet up again in 2011...

literally

i am a writer, writer of fictions
i am the heart that you call home...
 - "the engine driver," the decemberists

i have worked with language as long as i've known how to put my dreams on paper. i've written regularly for basically the last 25 years of my life. fiction, nonfiction, poetry, prose, and even an ill-fated screenplay - your humble blog proprietor has written it all. not to brag, but i think i've got a pretty decent command of this mother tongue of mine. i hone my craft here, there and everywhere, digital and analog, recreationally and professionally. this craft bleeds into my life. i speak as i write, much to the chagrin of my legal writing professors. ("would you actually say that word?" uh, yeah, dumb-ass; that's why i wrote it.) i use metaphor, simile, exaggeration, understatement. i am an architect of words, and it's a talent a) of which i am justifiably proud and b) that has been appreciated by many people with whom i've interacted over time.

so imagine my surprise when it came to my attention that this talent is radically underappreciated by some of the people i love most dearly. i mean, it's not an outright hostility - no one's telling me, as if anyone ever could, to stop my writing. but that sort of foolishness would almost be easier to wrap my head around. it's more of an intellectual blind spot. it's almost as if this crew is thoroughly incapable of comprehending figurative language. it's the weirdest damn thing i've ever seen in my life.

there is a cold, logical literalism at work in these conversations, one that confounds and amuses me in equal parts. words must be chosen carefully in order to get a point across. well, more specifically, to avoid a five-minute excursus as to what i meant and didn't mean, what i said and didn't say. it's important in this crew to be precise. accurate, even. to say that this is a frustrating development in my life is an - ha, ha - understatement. it's funny, too, in that, in the immortal words of jimmy buffett, if i couldn't laugh, i would just go insane.

look, i'm a lawyer. i understand the need to be incredibly precise. but guess what? my linguistic crayon box has 120 colors in it, and i will use every single goddamned one of them. i will not be stultified just because people in this world still use the 8-crayon kindergarten pack. i am a master of the language, spoken and written, and i will practice my art and craft, loud and proud. and if you can't hang? well. i'd advise that you either learn to drive or get off the track, or else you're liable to get left behind...

#roadtrip!

so i kept a running twitter log of things i did and saw while i was travelling. for your amusement, a road trip in 140 characters or less.

12/17, 11:41 pm: getting a milkshake for my drive south. miss my love already, but so jazzed to see my friends!

12/18, 2:18 am: dear henderson, north carolina: blow me. no open gas stations at all? come ON.

12/18, 5:17 am: welcome center, south carolina - that means a 20-minute pause for the cause before pressing on. naptime...

12/18, 6:19 am: greenville, SC: starbucks and hardee's at one exit. heaven.

12/18, 7:59 am: georgia welcome center: mmm. 5 more minutes of napping?

12/18, 10:47 am: AL welcome center: another state line crossed, another nap. so close. by the time i get to MS, #DADT had better be repealed...

12/18, 1:11 pm: greenville, AL: just like HS trips to youth leg, having lunch. makes me miss the man. getting closer to the pelican state...

12/18, 3:25 pm: gautier, MS: and down goes #DADT. beautiful day, beautiful moment.

12/18, 4:16 pm: et maintenant, bienvenue en louisiane. :)

12/19, 1:05 am: hammond, LA: drunk. smelling of cigarette smoke. desperately sleep-deprived. in a club. wish i was in bed with my man. i missed LA. really.

12/19, 11:34 pm: baton rouge, LA: my friends are amazing people. i love them dearly, and i miss them when i'm not here. LSU law 2010 for life.

12/20, 7:01 pm: new orleans, LA: my heart is this wondrous city, with its love and its life. so glad to be [spiritually] home.

12/21, 10:04 am: slidell, LA: morning coffee in the place where i learned to love estate planning. on the road again...

12/21, 10:07 am: aaaand there's the first rebel flag of the trip. four days in - think that's a record...

12/21, 10:40 am: gulfport, MS: too many memories. so much sin, in the buckle of the bible belt no less. makes me miss someone...

12/21, 4:38 pm: gulf shores, AL: my beach. god, i missed you.

12/22, 12:49 pm: mobile, AL: in the old life, i ignored people who mattered before i met him. that will never happen again. here's to true friends.

12/23, 12:37 pm: my family is exasperatingly sweet and amazing. prying and fussing over me across the miles. i feel claustrophobic and loved. :)

12/24, 8:38 am: mobile, AL: thus ends the "friends" portion of the trip; now begins the "family" portion. 80 hours till i'm home to him...

12/24, 1:36 pm: crestview, FL: met a middle school classmate in the gas station. small damn world...

12/24, 4:34 pm: moultrie, GA: and with that, i reach the edge of AT&T service. no phone, no internet for the weekend.

[here begins twitter-style note-taking on my phone]
12/24, 5:40 pm: tifton, GA: sharing a building here are the "southern heritage supercenter" (white guys) and "dirty south outfitters" (black guys). laughing together outside, dude in rebel-flag bandanna and dude in tupac shakur t-shirt. SO confused.

12/25, 4:12 pm: fitzgerald, GA: being a progressive southerner is a double-edged sword - so much good, so much cringeworthy...

[back to twitter]
12/25, 7:20 pm: arabi, GA: snow in DC = leaving family in a mad rush to get home. this'll be a long 24 hours...

12/25, 11:45 pm: greenville, SC: i swore i'd never eat christmas dinner at a waffle house again. [ed: there's a story here - another time.] and yet, here i sit. good times.

12/26, 12:31 pm: dinwiddie, VA: dear VDOT - it's a good thing that 18-wheeler flipped over. makes the fact that you left I-85 icy as hell obvious. grrrr.

12/27, 11:19 am: finally back home. great trip, but it's so damn good to be with him again...

quite an adventure. back to regular programming tomorrow!

ahhh.

i am home. recap later. but now, sleep. hope y'all had a fabulous holiday!

delightfully tacky, yet unrefined

dateline: tangipahoa parish, louisiana

oh, my lord, have i missed my friends. we spent last night and into this morning traversing the wilds of this parish, catching up on adventures old and new. we finished our evening in a "nite club" (no, really - that's what the sign said), indulging in vices of various stripes and enjoying a little well-earned release.

i love nights like that one - laughing all night, sending drunken (yet immaculately spelled) emails to people who aren't here, and remembering that i'm free. yeah, that's right; free. if i want to dance to "stand up and get crunk" in a tacky bar all night long, drink in hand, politely fending off the advances of the 18-year-old boy at the end of the bar (18! aagh!), i can. and i will.

this is what vacation is all about. great start to a recharge, eh?